


A Journey to the Past

by NerdGirl07



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: 3x02 orphanage scene, Angst, Anne Shirley Cuthbert, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gilbert Blythe - Freeform, Gilbert instead of cole, Hurt/Comfort, My take, i added a bit, trigger warning past abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 07:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21352564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdGirl07/pseuds/NerdGirl07
Summary: “It was almost bearable, in daylight...”“Was it horrible here?”The orphanage scene, with a twist.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 94





	A Journey to the Past

Gilbert stood beside Anne and looked at the building in front of him where Anne grew up. It didn’t look like a place where anyone lived. The wrought Iron gate creaked on rusty hinges in the chilly breeze and a crow cawed in the tree devoid of leaves beside it. The orphanage beyond it looked haunted. It was straight out of the horror stories he’d read when he was younger. It certainly didn’t look like a place where the bright, lively, Anne Shirley Cuthbert could have spent a night in, let alone years of her life.

The red haired girl stood beside him, just outside the gate, gathering her courage. She had thought it wouldn’t be so difficult coming back here again, now that she has a family who loves her. However that was not the case. Everything about Avonlea seemed to vanish in the face of her past.

“You lived here?”

The sound of Gilbert’s disbelieving question jolted her out of her thoughts.

“Off and on for thirteen years.” She replied, trying to sound normal. “My parents died from fever when I was three months old so I was here ever since. I would be placed out of course...but always ended up back here.” Her tone was filled with memories and her eyes with shadows as she finished her explanation, something Gilbert didn’t miss.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Gilbert asked, seeing the conflict in Anne.

“Yes.” She breathed. The two teenagers stood there a few moments more, allowing Anne to reclaim her courage.

“Ready?” Gilbert asked.

Anne squared her shoulders. “Ready.” She replied firmly. They stepped through the gates.

A group of children were playing in the yard as Anne and Gilbert walked up the path towards the orphanages front door. The children wore old, worn, ill fitting clothes. They wore only light jackets or sweaters despite the bitter winter cold. Even the youngest ones who couldn’t have been more than four had an air of sadness about them, weariness and hopelessness curled their shoulders forward and made their heads hang listlessly. All of their clothes hung too loosely from their thin frames, testament to malnutrition, strong evidence of scant and missed meals. Some of the children were cruel. Gilbert could see it in their eyes, in the way a little girl yanked on the others girls braids, or a boy shoved and tripped those littler than him. It was the kind of cruelty that could only be learned from a life devoid of love, and filled with harsh punishments. Gilbert watched as the kids slowly took notice of them. They started whispering amongst each other, watching them with hollow, scared eyes before returning to their games. A brown haired girl gave a sharp slap across the face to a little girl who looked to be one of the youngest, barely more than a toddler. Gilbert's eyes widened in shock. The hard faced woman who was minding the kids didn’t even blink. Nor did she reprimand the girl. She just looked on blankly, uncaring.

“Surprised?” A sardonic voice asked. Gilbert’s head snapped over to Anne. Maybe it was the light but she seemed to be getting younger, skinnier, and paler with each step they took towards the building. As if she was walking back in time.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you surprised that the kids here are hateful and mean? Did you expect these kids to be well cared for? Appreciated? Loved?” Anne’s harsh tone broke on the last word. Gilbert merely shook his head. He couldn’t think of any answer that wouldn’t make him sound like a complete ass. He didn’t know what he’d expected. He knew Anne didn’t have a good past, but he hadn’t expected...this.

As they stepped up the steps of the orphanage Anne looked years younger, he could almost see the ghost of a bruise on her face, the same slight fear in her eyes like that of the other orphans. He could see Anne Shirley, before she was a Cuthbert. He could see Anne Shirley of the orphanage before she was Anne Shirley Cuthbert of Green Gables. It was unsettling to say the least.

Anne took a deep breath and opened the door. Gilbert stepped into the interior of the orphanage and cringed. Inside orphans in their worn out clothes did chores, or minded younger kids under the watchful eyes of the orphanage workers. The kids performed their chores quickly, their competent, practiced movements testament to a life of menial tasks. They looked to be a little older than the ones outside and they moved from one task to another with anxious movements, flinching every time one of the workers barked an order. The fear in their eyes coupled with the hopelessness showed they had spent their lives trapped in servitude, and expected a sharp word or a harsh blow if they didn’t work well enough, quickly enough, hard enough. Some of the kids had bruises, burns, cuts, or other such injuries on the little skin that showed. Others looked sick, sickly enough in Gilbert’s semi-professional opinion that they should be in bed, getting proper care, instead of working themselves to exhaustion and getting chilled from the cold that must have seeped in through the stone floor and thin walls.

He looked over at Anne beside him. She trembled ever so slightly. Her eyes were haunted. Hesitantly, he reached out to touch her hand, to remind her he was there with her. That she didn’t live in this awful place any longer. The second his big hand grazed her small, icy cold one she flinched away as if she’d been struck, jolted out of her memories.

Her voice was hollow when she spoke, her eyes still fixed on the bustling scene before her. “I was one of these ones. These are the kids put into service. The ones the matron sends to do work and earn their keep at the houses of citizens. It’s cheap you see,” she says, her eyes glistening as her painful memories resurfaced “you don’t have to pay an orphan in service like you would a housemaid or nanny. All you have to give them is a place to sleep and just enough food to keep them alive.”

Gilbert shivered at the bleak way Anne describes service. Had she really been starved?

“Orphans are cheap because they’re unwanted. No one cares what happens to an orphan. We do any chores we’re ordered too. We don’t get paid a wage. And were useful in other ways too.”

Gilbert was almost afraid to ask. “What do you mean?”

Anne turned her pained eyes towards him and he could almost feel the way her past was attacking her mind. Her clear blue eyes had a shattered quality. He felt that if he pushed her too much she would break. Shatter into a million pieces.

“A lot of families who take an orphan into service are poor. Most are drunks, and all have a temper. An orphan makes a convenient punching bag, or a convenient way to try out a whip or a switch. Who’d mention anything about the injuries? No one cares about an orphan.”

Gilbert looked back at the bustling room. Forcing himself to note all the injuries on some of the kids. He wanted to ask Anne if she’d been one of the ones who was abused but he knew it was a stupid question. He already knew the answer. Anne had as good as told him. He wished it wasn’t true. But he couldn’t change the past, as much as he wanted too.

His eyes landed on a girl who couldn’t have been more than thirteen, with brown hair and a large blue bruise on one cheekbone, holding a toddler on one hip and scrubbing the windows almost frantically. She was pale eyed and fair skinned like Anne, and as she turned away from him he caught a glimpse of a finger shaped bruise behind her ear and a thick, red scar peeking above the collar of her dress.

“Come on!” Anne said abruptly, urging him towards the large spiral staircase. A worker dragged two young kids by their ears up the stairs in front of them, the kids gasped in pain as the woman’s cold voice scolded them.

“You think you can just do whatever you please? No supper. That’ll teach you. And the consequences will be much worse if you don’t stop your snivelling…” The woman’s scolding faded as she dragged the crying kids up the rest of the stairs and down the hall.

“Where are we going? Who are we going to see?” Gilbert asked Anne as she almost ran up the stairs.

“Matron.” She answered shortly.

When she reached the landing she marched purposefully down the hallway. Then she got to a doorway and halted. Gilbert could see her get swept up by memories once again as she stared at the room filled with orderly rows of iron bedsteads. Impersonal, and made with tight hospital corners. It looked more like a hospital ward than a communal living space. This must have been Anne’s room, Gilbert realized as he noticed Anne staring intently at the bed two away from the wall. This was where she must have slept for the first thirteen years of her life.

“It was almost bearable, in daylight.” Anne said, still gazing intently at the bed.

“Was it horrible here?” he found himself asking. From what he’d seen it was pretty bad. But he needed to know if it was worse than this, if it was worse than he could possibly imagine.

“It’s...an orphanage.” Anne said hesitantly, “worse than some. Better than others. I’m sure.”

She turned away and continued down the hallway, making it clear that the conversation was over. Gilbert stood frozen in the doorway of Anne’s old bedroom for a few seconds longer, her chilling words seeming to echo in his head and in his soul. _Worse than some. Better than others. I’m sure._ **********************************************

Gilbert sat on Anne’s right in the waiting room attached to the matrons office. Anne was still trembling, and working hard to control her breathing. The absence of a door allowed Gilbert and Anne to clearly hear the happenings of what was going on inside the office. On the bench diagonal to them sat two children, in muddy clothes made from potato sacks, silently crying. They couldn’t have been more than five.

“...would thank you to help me out with my pair. Their mother died and I can’t keep them.”

The voice came from within the office, obviously from the father of the two crying kids. Gilbert realized what was happening but he could scarcely believe it. What kind of father, however destitute could dump his children at such a place as this?

“How old?” Inquired the cold, detached voice of the matron. It was the first time Gilbert heard her speak, and he already despised her.

“Four? Five? Six? Something like that.” The man guessed. The little boy let out a broken sob, and a quiet whimper.

“Real mouthy too,” the voice of the hateful man said, ignoring his sons crying, “this place will probably do them some good.”

A small cold hand grabbed Gilbert’s suddenly and tightly. He started a little, and his heart skipped a beat, though he knew this wasn’t romantic in any way. Anne gripped his hand, squeezing tightly, as if he was anchoring her to reality, to her life in Avonlea. He matched his grip to her own, offering her his silent support. When he looked over at Anne she was determinedly not looking at him or the kids, instead staring intently at the wall right in front of her. Gilbert could see how unnaturally shiny her eyes looked. She was holding back tears.

The horrid conversation in the matrons office continued as if they were discussing nothing more than a sale in a store, instead of the lives of the two little children seated in the waiting room. Anne squeezed her eyes shut taking in a shaky breath. Gilbert prayed this was just a disturbing dream, a nightmare. At the very least he prayed for this awful event to be over.

“When they’re older do you want them back or should I tell them you’re dead?”

Anne’s grip on Gilbert hand tightened almost painfully but he hardly felt it he was in such disbelief. How could the matron be allowed to do that? How could she ask as if it wasn’t the worst lie that could ever be told to a child? As if it wasn’t the very essence of evil?

A sudden thought crossed his mind and Gilbert felt ice flood his veins. What if something like that had happened to Anne? He looked over at the red headed girl next to him. Her eyes were no longer glistening. Instead her expression was one Gilbert knew all too well. It was the expression she often wore when thinking of her past. Blank. So disturbingly blank, as if she felt nothing at all. It was scarier to him than any other expression because Anne Shirley Cuthbert wasn’t meant to feel nothing. Wasn’t meant to be expressionless. Anne was supposed to burst with emotion, any emotion, be it positive or negative. She wasn’t meant to look so, so...emotionless.

“Dead” The children’s father answered, a hint of remorse in his voice “please.” And he walked swiftly out of the office. The little boy surged off the bench and ran after him, latching onto his leg with a cry of “papa!” The man tried to shake him off roughly, shouting “I can’t take care of yeh! I CAN'T KEEP YA! Go on!”

An orphanage worker pried the little boy off his father and grabbed the little girl by the wrist, leading them away as their father disappeared around the corner.

And just like that, they were orphans.

Gilbert could feel himself shaking. Weather it was from rage or astonishment or something else entirely he wasn’t sure. But the events that had just unfolded before him were so, so...callous and downright wrong it made him feel sick. He’d seen a lot of the world on his travels, seen many good things, and many unimaginably horrible things, but the scene that had just unfolded in front of his eyes was the worst thing he had ever witnessed.

“Come on.” Anne’s hand shook, even though it was tightly clasped in his but her voice was steady as she gave his hand a gentle tug, pulling him to his feet. “It’s our turn.”

They rounded the corner and were fixed with the intense, frigid gaze of the matron. Beside him Anne froze. He gently tugged her foreword. She followed woodenly, her eyes still fixed on the matrons.

“Yes?” The matron asked, “may I help you? Are you dropping off or picking up?”

It took Gilbert a moment to understand what she was insinuating. When he did his cheeks flamed red. She thought...oh!

Gilbert cleared his throat. “Neither.” He paused to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say, “she...was an orphan here. For a long time.”

Anne simply stared, her eyes wide and a million miles away. A slight nod was her only reaction to Gilbert’s words. Her eyes were locked on the matrons.

Gilbert gave Anne’s hand a reassuring squeeze and continued, “ Her name is Anne Shirley. We’re looking for information on her family.”

The matrons cold eyes flickered with recognition and she fixed her eyes on Anne. “Did you used to talk a lot?” She asked in a dangerous voice. Anne nodded mutely, almost imperceptibly.

“Talked yourself clean out of words. Well,, what?” The matron snapped. “Why come to me?”

Anne took a shaky breath but her words were steady when she asked, “might you have documentation on me? On my parents?”

“We might’ve at one time. A few years ago the rats were so bad they cleaned us out. If your parents dumped ya off here we’ve got nothing that says anything about it.”

“Walter and Bertha Shirley.” Anne replied steadily, “they didn’t dump me off here, they died of fever.”

“If you say so.” The matron replied carelessly taking a sip of tea. “But we’ve nothin.”

At that Anne let out a muffled sob and fled the small office, tearing her hand from his. Gilbert was no more than a step behind her.

“Anne!”

“I’m fine.” Anne said taking a deep breath, “I just...had to get out of there. I always despised matron. Always hated her cruel words and uncaring nature.”

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Gilbert asked softly, retaking Anne’s small hand.

“I will be.” Anne replied. It wasn’t the answer Gilbert wanted, but it was the only one he would get.

They had descended the staircase, gone through the big bustling room that was somehow empty and almost made it to the door when Anne paused and turned back to the big spiral staircase.

“I need to see something.”

She looked left and right quickly, as if making sure no one was around before she dashed up the stairs. Gilbert raced after her. They climbed past the matrons office and past the hallways above all the way to the very top into an attic like place.

Gilbert looked around the small space. He guessed it must have been Anne’s hideout when she had lived here and found himself marvelling again at Anne’s ingenuity. She had managed to find the most secluded, well lit place in the entire orphanage and made it her own.

“You used to come up here?” He guessed.

“I used to steal up here to write.” Anne answered distantly. She let go of his hand and swiftly crossed the small space, deftly lifting a loose floorboard out of the way and retrieving a small stack of papers.

“I didn’t have time to retrieve them when I was leaving for the last time. It was...a surprise when I was taken to Green Gables.”

Gilbert knelt beside her, carefully taking the papers out of her hands. They were yellowed with age so he was exceedingly gentle, afraid the early works of Anne Shirley might be broken if he so much as breathed the wrong way.

Turning over the first loose sheet of paper he began to read, a soft smile on his face. “The air was damp where princess Cordelia was held captive. The constant dark made her lose sight of her senses, affected her sanity, and her personage at large. But so did the surety that she would be rescued from this horrid place.”

His smile faded. He flipped to a different page, a new Princess Cordelia adventure. “Princess Cordelia, with raven hair that had once been the colour of carrots laughed as she escaped through the haunted woods. Captive once more she stole to the tower to write her tale, knowing that once again they wouldn’t be able to hold her long-“

“It’s so stupid!” Anne burst out suddenly. Gilbert jumped, he hadn’t noticed her move from his side.

“Can’t you see? I thought I _was_ princess Cordelia! I spent my life here in full_ lunatic _imagination!”

A mirthless, disbelieving laugh tore from her throat. Gilbert winced at the sound. He’d never seen Anne so upset.

“And now I- I- I don’t know what’s real, I…” she continued, her voice softer than before. Gilbert wanted to cry at how lost and hateful she sounded. He could see how much she hated herself at that moment. “...What else did I tell myself? What if my parents aren’t dead? What if they just dumped me here because they just didn’t _want_ me?”

A broken sob tore from her throat. Seeing her like this Gilbert felt his own heart break.

“I can’t remember who told me they loved me!” She sobbed, “what if I made that up like _everything_ else?” She laughed again, that horrible, hateful, absolutely miserable laugh. “I’m such a fool it’s _pathetic_.”

Gilbert gazed at her for a second. He’d never seen her so unhappy, so angry at her lot in life, so...broken. “No.” He shook his head, slowly taking a step towards her. “You’re not pathetic. Your thoughts are the most beautiful ones in the world. Your imagination kept you alive in this place. It’s what makes you so strong. Your mind is your armour Anne. It protected you from the awful reality that was your life here. Your ability to imagine, and see different worlds and possibilities is a remarkable gift. It allows you to be free of judgment and prejudice. You were able to accept Mary and Bash into Avonlea without a thought because you know how awful it is to be hated for no reason. Or for some stupid reason you can’t change. You can love and live freely because your mind doesn’t tell you to hold back, to conform to society's rules. It’s...amazing. And I wish there were more people who could see that.”

Anne gazed at him for a moment. Gilbert didn’t say anything he just let the words sink in. Then Anne vaulted forward and threw her arms around him, sobbing into his shirt. A thrill went through him at how well they fit together. _‘Keep it together Blythe!’ He told himself. ‘Anne needs you.’_ He put his arms around her and rubbed her back soothingly, letting her cry herself out.

Eventually her tears stopped but the two teenagers remained locked in an embrace for a few minutes more. Anne sniffed and gently pulled away, and whispered so quietly Gilbert could barely hear her.

“Thank you.”

**********************************************

“Pardon me.” Anne mumbled as she stepped past one of the orphanage girls who was scrubbing the floor. The girl looked up sharply and Anne gasped.

“My, my,” the worker said as she slowly sat back on her heels, “if it isn’t _princess Cordelia._”

The girl had frizzy black hair that was messily pinned back and a cruel gleam in her dark eyes that Gilbert had seen in the eyes of some of the other orphans. Anne froze as the black haired girl locked her gaze on her, her beady black eyes as cold and unforgiving as a snakes.

“That’s right. You got out. So whatcha doin here, huh? Got yourself knocked up? Dropping off a little piece of trash?”

“I beg your pardon!” Gilbert gasped furiously, as Anne finched, “how _dare_ you?”

“So shiny now.” The dark haired girl taunted, her gaze still locked on Anne as if she hadn’t heard Gilbert at all, “but your still trash on the inside aren’t you?”

With that Gilbert shoved Anne foreward gently, urging her towards the door. Just before they left, Anne turned back, her eyes locking with the dark haired girl’s one last time.

“I’m sorry that you’re still here.” Anne said. Her words rang with sincerity. The dark haired girl bristled, her features contorting with rage.

“I _work_ here. I’m not _still_ here. I get paid to be here! You think that I...that I still…” She screamed at them as they left the orphanage, before she closed the door once more, locking herself inside her eternal prison.

“Who was that?” Gilbert asked in a hushed tone.

“She was...a bully. From when I was there. She was mean to everyone but she targeted me especially. I’m so...different. I’m so unusual that she just...hated me.”

“That’s awful Anne. She’s awful.”

“She is, but I meant what I said in there. I feel bad for her. She’s never escaped that place...never really lived. After being at green gables I now know the difference between simply being alive and truly living. And that’s something she’ll never experience. Maybe she does does get paid to be there now, but that doesn’t change the fact that’s she’s never going to escape that place. Although, I suppose she is one of the lucky ones…”

“What do you mean?” Gilbert asked in confusion. Anne looked at him for a long moment, indecision in her eyes. Then she seized his hand and walked foreward quicker.

“Come on. We only have about two hours before the ferry back will come. Their’s something I need to show you.”

“Wha-Anne!” Gilbert huffed indignantly, caught of guard, “where are we going?” He stumbled and almost fell as he clumsily tried to catch up to Anne’s urgent pace.

“On a journey.” Anne answered soberly, “a journey to my past.”

*********************************************

Anne led Gilbert purposefully through the small town, down past the mainstreet and popular living areas to the bad part of town. Here the storefronts had boarded up windows and shady looking clientele. Though it was only early afternoon, drunks stumbled out of saloons and sprawled on the nearby sidewalk. The few houses were frail and in disrepair, marked by peeling paint, grimy exteriors, and overgrown lawns. The few children, playing in the yards had muddy, worn clothes so old they’re been worn to rags, and cheeks and eyes hollow with hunger.

Gilbert looked around himself apprehensively. This wasn’t a part of town he was used to seeing, nor was it where he was comfortable being.

“Keep your head down and stop gawking!” Anne hissed and her grip on his hand tightened. “Look tough, and if you can't manage that at least _try_ to look inconspicuous!”

It was the first time Anne had spoken since she announced they were going on ‘a journey to her past’. Looking around himself Gilbert realized Anne knew what she was doing, to move and act the way she did.

Anne stood strait and walked quickly, but not too quickly. Quick enough that her walk was purposeful but not so quick she appeared afraid. Her head was bowed, indicating she wasn’t overly cocky or looking for a fight, but her eyes were hyper aware of her surroundings and her chin was set stubbornly indicating she was cautious but unafraid of those around her.

Taking his cues from her, Gilbert ducked his head, schooling his features into a neutral expression, and stood a little straighter. Once again glancing at Anne he noticed the slight bounce in her step was more prominent than it usually was. The only other time her gait was ever this bubbly was when she was walking through the forest in Avonlea. ‘_She’s comfortable here_,’ Gilbert realized, ‘_she more comfortable in this rough and tumble part of town than she is almost everywhere else!’_

When the bounce began to leave Anne’s step again, Gilbert guessed they were approaching their destination. His suspicions proved true when Anne halted in front of a decrepit, abandoned house at the end of the street.

“This was the Hammonds house... before Mr. Hammond died and Mrs. Hammond dumped me back at the orphanage and went out east to live with her sister.”

“Who were the Hammonds?” Gilbert asked, softening his voice to match Anne’s hollow tone.

“They were...the last family I was in service to before I was taken to Green Gables...Mrs. Hammond was mean and Mr. Hammond…” she trailed off.

“Mr. Hammond what?” Gilbert prompted. He was almost afraid to ask but he had to know.

“Mr. Hammond had...an awful temper. Most everyone I was in service to did but...he was worse than most. He would come home drunk, drag me outside by my hair and have me lean over the woodpile...and then he would whip me. Incessantly…” she began to cry at the memory, “It hurt so much Gilbert...so much...and Mrs. Hammond hit me too…” She sobbed. Gilbert pulled her into and embrace but she barely felt it. Instead she felt the ghostly sting and bite of the lash tearing her flesh, a harsh slap across the face, and the dozens of ugly words that had been shouted at her.

_‘Wicked girl!’_

_ ‘Trashy orphan!’_

_ ‘You little slut!’ _

_‘Clumsy idiot!’_

_ ‘Hurry up wench!’_

_ ‘You little bitch!’_

_ ‘Worthless.’_

_ ‘Imbecile.’ _

_‘Whore!’_

“Anne!”

“Sorry.” Anne shook her head as if trying to shake her memories out of it, “I...got lost in the past.”

“Anne, I...I had no idea you lived like that...I, I just don't know what to say. Where you taken to a doctor at least? When you went back to the orphanage? Or when you got to Green Gables?”

“No.” Anne scoffed, stepping out of his embrace, “No one at the orphanage noticed and if they had they wouldn't have cared. And I tried to hide at Green Gables. Marilla almost caught me once, but that's it.”

“Anne! That's so dangerous! You could have been seriously hurt, or got an infection! Or fainted from blood loss, or-”

“Gilbert.” Anne’s voice was firm, “I thank you for your concern but I was fine.”

“Why didn’t you at least tell the Cuthberts? They're good to you, you had no reason to hide anything!” “I most certainly did!” Anne snapped, “They didn't want me in the first place, they wanted a boy! If I couldn't work, and saddled them with a doctor's bill on top of that, they’d have sent me back!”

“They wouldn't have!” Gilbert argued hotly. “The Cuthberts love you!”

“They sent me back once before because Marilla lost her brooch and thought I _stole_ it so they most certainly would have sent me back!” Anne yelled, “Don’t talk about things you don't understand Gilbert!”

Gilbert opened his mouth to argue, then closed it hard without saying a word. Anne was right. He didn’t understand. He hadn’t lived his life viewed with suspicion, and hatred, and disgust as she had. He hadn’t spent his life as an orphan.

“You're right.” Gilbert realized, “I’m sorry.” “It's ok.” Anne said, but it wasn’t, and Gilbert knew it never would be. “I just want you to understand.”

They stood staring at the house for a few moments more.

“C’mon,” Anne said at last, “there’s one more place I need to see before we have to meet the ferry.” She led Gilbert further down the street, deeper into the impoverished, run down part of town. They passed more saloons and sketchy looking inns with dirty exteriors. Anne didn’t spare them a second glance, she strode pursposefully around the corner and began to approach one of the buildings. A run down, fake looking, thin walled, cube of a building. Looking at it Gilbert realized it was neither a saloon nor an inn. As he watched a young man stepped out the door, a cheaply dressed girl on his arm.

“_Anne_!” He hissed, grabbing her arm, “what are you _doing_? We can’t go in there!”

“And _why_, pray tell, not?” There was a dangerous edge to Anne’s voice as she yanked her arm roughly out of Gilbert grip.

“Anne, that’s a _brothel_!”

“_Yes_” Anne hissed venomously, the revulsion in Gilbert voice fueling her temper. “And I can guarantee you that I know _at least_ half the girls working in there!”

“_How_?” Gilbert demanded.

Anne’s anger seemed to go out all at once, like a candle put out by a sudden puff of air. Instead she seemed to have to force her words out.

“The orphanage will only keep you until you turn sixteen.” She began, “The day of your sixteen birthday the kick you out onto the streets.” Her eyes regained their haunted look as she gazed into the past. “Orphans aren’t educated. When girls are kicked out they don’t known anything more than housework. Boys are lucky, they can get a job at the docks or on one of the steamers. If they’re really lucky they might get an apprenticeship. But girls...girls aren’t always so lucky. If they’re lucky the orphanage will keep them on as workers, give them housing and a small wage if the matron likes them and they’ve proved they’re a hard worker. Like my charming bully you met back there at the orphanage, trapped in a lifetime of servitude, but luckier than most girls from that place. If they aren’t lucky they’re tossed out on the street uneducated and penniless. They’re orphans so they don’t have any family, so they’ve no one to stay with and no roof over their head. No one will marry them, because of their upbringing. No one will hire them either since they’re uneducated and it’s easy to get help around the house for free at the orphanage. So, they either beg on the streets or, more often then not, they end up here. At the brothel. Selling themselves because they have to, to survive, they’ll starve or freeze to death if they don’t. They don’t have any other options.” Gilbert was staring at her with wide eyed disbelief, seemingly speechless. “I am extremely lucky, and grateful that the Cuthberts took me in.” Anne told him, “you already knew that, everyone in Avonlea does, but now you know that I am grateful for more reasons than one. This is where I would be if they hadn’t adopted me. I know for a fact. The matron hated me, I would never have had a chance to work at the orphanage.”

Mistaking Gilbert’s horrified expression for disgust, Anne lowered her gaze, ducking her head with shame.

“So now you know. I’m an orphan, from a town of criminals and prostitutes. I’m pathetic for ever thinking I could be more.”

“No. _No_, Anne that’s not true. This may be where you grew up but it’s doesn’t define who you are. Your past doesn’t define your future.”

“Oh please, Gilbert! Save your gallantry for someone who believes it!” Anne cried, visibly upset. “You can hardly look at me. You think I’m some sort of slattern don’t you? I consort with prostitutes so I must have been one myself is that it?”

“No Anne! That’s not it at all! So stop trying to push me away and losten to me!” Gilbert yelled. He took Anne gently by the shoulders, turning her until she met his eyes. “I don’t think any less of you. Your past is horrific and others who were in your situation have it worse and it’s sickening, and it disgusts me that you and the other kids at that irphanage it in that brothel aren’t treated better. But I’m not disgusted by you Anne, i don’t think you’re a dirty, or damaged goods, I think you’re one of the most wonderful friends I’ve ever had, and quite possibly the strongest person I’ve ever known. So can you stop hating yourself for your past and start seeing yourself as the amazing person that you are?”

Anne stared at Gilbert for a moment. Then in true Ann’s Shirley Cuthbert fashion, she burst into tears and threw her arms around the curly haired boy, who blushed awkwardly but hugged her back nonetheless.

Anne’s crying stopped rather quickly and she stepped out of their embrace, sniffing and wiping the last tears out of her eyes. They returned to looking at the brothel, letting silence envelop them and give them each a chance to think.

“Everyone thinks I came up with Princess Cordelia but I didn’t!” Anne burst out suddenly.

When Gilbert gave her a quizzical glance, complete with his signature quirked eyebrow she blushed and hurried on.

“There was an older girl at the orphanage who was kind to me. Alanna was her name, and she looked after me until I was about six years old. Princess Cordelia was her character, her creation. Alanna was the one who taught me to imagine. She would make up a Princess Cordelia story and tell it to me and a few other kids at bedtime. I loved it so much it was a nickname she started calling me, whenever I was upset. That’s why in the stories I wrote there I wrote myself as Princess Cordelia. Cordelia was my escape, even before I knew how to read. Before I knew how to write. Alanna could turn even the most tiresome and monotonous chores into a daring adventure. I’ve still never been as good at imagining my woes away as she was.” Anne finished, a soft smile on her lips.

“You speak of her as if...she’s gone. What happened to her? Alanna I mean.”

Anne’s lip curled. “What do you think happened? She turned sixteen. She got kicked out. She ended up here.” Anne’s eyes filled with tears, “I visited her a few times but this place,” she jerked her thumb at the brothel “managed to do what the orphanage was never able too. It broke her. She was never the same after she came here. She stopped imagining things. Anyway, after a few months she got sick. She died not long after.”

Without waiting for a response and turned on her heel and began walking back towards the better part of town. Gilbert took the hint that Anne didn’t want to discuss the matter further and followed her quietly.

******************************************

Gilbert stood beside Anne on the deck of the ferry. Very close beside her, as Anne had shyly tucked herself under his arm when they first boarded the boat, desperately needing the comfort and warmth of a fellow human being.

Not that Gilbert was complaining, in fact he was probably a little bit too comfortable with the redhead pulled close against his side.

“Are you cold?” Gilbert asked her, pulling her closer. Closer than was proper, considering they were neither courting more engaged but neither one of them chose to somment on it, if they realized at all.

“No, why?” Anne asked quizzically.

“You’re shaking.”

“Oh.”

Silence.

And then,

“I just...didn’t expect it to be so...being there. Living there again. I didn’t expect it to feel like being sent back. I didn’t expect it to be so hard. And it wasn’t even worth it! I just spent the day reliving bad memories, I didn’t find out anything about my parents!”

“The orphanage didn’t have records of your parents but there has to be some somewhere. Maybe we can come back. Check the church in the town you were born in. Write the cleric in the town if we have too. We’ll find something. I promise.”

Anne nodded and snuggled closer to his side (if that was even possible.) Neither one of the teens spoke again on the long journey back to Avonlea.


End file.
